``seen{this//all__B E F O R E -- dimi

[Natsumi Sayuri]

She was spinning out of control - how funny, this little track of life, this little play that went on and on and on, and she, never knowing the words, stumbling across the marks made in chalk. They knew, they all knew, and they watched her with their mouths covered, little snickers of delight, little bits of happiness at her suffering, her pain, her terror. What could she do but keep on moving? What could she do but keep on following this little path before her, one foot in front of the other, only half-conscious, drugged by the emotions that clatter so loudly inside of her head. This was insanity: the touch of her fingers in her hair, the rumbling of distant thunder as the hurricane swept it's wrath across the island and disappeared.

Oh how lucky that storm, that hurricane: she wanted to sweep the word away with her hand, lashing out with violence, with the very strength of that terror they cultivated like fine wine. Was she but a toy to be mocked, a little prize to be put on a pedestal and stared at? They saw her scars, saw through the tempestuous nature of the Wolf and still they mocked, still they leered, their eyes all sticky as they looked beneath the clothes. There is only confusion, now. Only this knot of angst which pulses like blood beneath her heart, deeper than flesh, a rhythmic touch of the beast waking to the monstrosity of this storm. Why now, why not before? She remembered Luke -- remembered the touch of his fingers in her fur as his voice rumbled on into a soothing silence -- but she was casting him away, throwing thoughts of him as far from her as possible. There was nothing left, but this empty shell, this angry, hot knot of betrayal and angst.

Both of them were falling beneath the tide of this emotion, spiraling together, their eyes locked, their hearts conjoined -- too long since they had thought of separate wave lengths. Too long, since they had both found their eyes on the same quarry, on the same thought, with the same, mimicked impulse. They would run -- they would run until their breath burned in their lungs, until the song of their blood surging forward to deafen their ears was all they heard. No more of these unsettling thoughts -- no more of this redundant school, these locks and chains and straps. Rin would not be contained, and she had been contained for far too long -- she had been lulled by the pull of the people around her, gravitating to their tune, singing along with a smile on her face, and never realized the danger: she was softening. She was dying, by inches, by little bits of nightmarish docility. Would she become the lamb? Led to slaughter by the professors here?

Out of control, loose canon, unstable -- these are the things she heard unspoken in their voices, in the way they watched her so carefully as if everything that had been let go of in Murazar's presence had spread like a disease to their ears. They knew. They always knew; wasn't it part of the play? Wasn't she supposed to be fitting herself to the mold? But she didn't -- and it was the problem. She was a trouble maker, too willing to listen to the Wolf, to the voices that didn't belong in her head. She grinned now, but there was no weakness in it; no, no, not at all. This was no Rin which had been devastated and frightened, this was no little puppy slipping through the mud of a hurricane's wrath. This was Rin, the untouchable. This was Rin, the fire -- the dark flame that burned in her heart, in the surging power of her veins. Unstoppable, unbreakable, she rebuilt her wall, re-aligned her sights and pointed her chin in the direction of her dreams.

To others, there is a point, perhaps -- a point where the change is unbearable and they break beneath it, but if it is true, Rin has not found it. She coaxed the change, filled her thoughts with the Wolf, willing the creature to surge forward, like a song, like a dying breath -- and it came, with power, with sibilant desire aching in her stomach, slipping down with wet fingers into the folds of her sensuality. Yes, yes, there was flush on her cheeks as she walked with purpose, a storm brewing here: so obvious, for no one thought to stop her, no one put a hand to her shoulder to keep her from the trash, from the broken leftovers of a beach. She came, because she had to see it: to realize the border to which she must pass. Another grin, so much darker, so full of fire and mischief and sheer, unadulterated will. She will not be held down. This was who she was -- and she was rotating her confusion, erasing it all -- who cared about what she thought she had felt. This is what reality was. This power she felt as the Wolf snapped into place, clicked and molded into the little hole in her head where it lingered in her subconscious. Days had slurred into nothingness as she remembered a past that had come back to her -- but Rin was tired of the fear, tired of being cold.

So she fed the anger, fed the pride of the Wolf and drank deeply of this heat, of this desire which fanned out like molten gold over her skin -- but there was no gold here, only blackness, pitched in darkness. Rin was smiling as her head snapped back, as her fingers so dexterous, so quickly undid buttons, slipped out of tank tops -- what point in folding when she must only shove the clothes under the sand? The Wolf was on her tongue, in her head, in her heart, feeding off of the heart, indulging, engorging, growing fat on this delicious meal. To be predator again, to be anything but that scared little mouse which had clung to Luke's shirt after her drowning.

Who cared about a past that would never exist again? With eagerness the change occurred, the anger swirled up out of her throat -- she howled, while midst shift, as fur burst forth from her skin, as her body jerked at a terrible anger. It was but a heartbeat, suspended in momentary eternity -- yes, yes, one breath to the next, but she could feel each moment of it, each little touch of her bones as they cracked and realigned, as they connected and broke again. The Wolf was clawing it's way out of her chest, refusing her a pause -- so quick, this change, so terrible, so beautiful, so brutal.

The howl rang out fiercely, full of triumph, full of arrogance and that little bit of ownership -- this beach, this border would be defeated. She would find her way across -- Rin shifted, yes, yes, that endless moment that took only a blink of an eye and she was bolting through the sands, through the wreckage of trees and dunes and driftwood. Through glass, and doors, and chairs -- so many things littered the ground, but the sky was clear and the ocean with it's feral gnawing on the shore was her enemy. She ran like it was her only purpose -- no point in stopping, she ran, and ran, and ran, her legs stretching out, body taut as the wind coursed forward, slipping through her fur, lifting her maw toward the sky - yes, yes, this was the feeling, this little bit of herself she had lost along the way. Yes, yes, this was what it was to be Rin, this was what she had been missing: this determination, this bite, this ferocity. She had been a loose canon, but now she was back to herself, showing her back to the new feelings which had begun to grow within her. With brutal efficiency she carved them out and let them fall behind.

This feeling of impossibility, this unreachable self was pivotal to Rin, to the Wolf. Away from the stress, away from the complexity of human nature, she fell headlong into the Wolf, into that wilderness that reverberated in her soul. Yes, she was home, she was back to strength, back to stubbornness. The Wolf's jaws gaped open, wind pushing a myriad of scents into her nose; the Wolf orgasmed from the sheer delight of this brilliant display. She was home. Rin was home -- they were together, her fingers knotted in the Wolf's fur, riding that sleek back, her own hair whipping in the wind. Together, once again. Fiercer than ever, more beautifully on fire.

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word count;; 1469
tags;; Dimitri ^-^
OOC;; Whoot! Staind makes Rin happeh XD

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[Dimitri Zhukov]

seen it all before

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[/i] them think, couldn't make them do as he saw fit. Not most of them anyway, not without caving their skulls in first anyway. To do that for a whole islands worth of people? Pah, he'd just tolerate the beach dwellers, for now.

Or at least...he would, had there been anyone here that was. That hurricane that had come through here, what was it's name? Storms got names didn't they? He couldn't remember it, or it never got one, either way, that storm had done his dirty work for him. It had stormed and thundered it's way through the island, and in doing so, the beach. It picked up rubble and litter and tossed it to and fro so violently, nothing was recognizable when it was all over. Such fury, such raw devestation, kinda made you wanna step back and admire it all, or maybe take a picture at least. They say a picture's worth a thousand words. These thousand would all spell, chaos.

He pads around the beach, not quite sure if it was more than that odd sense of gravity the beaches all seemed to give off to lure people in, or if it was some invisible hand that swept him into the newly formed sand-trap. The tattoo on his left arm was living proof of his own warped belief, or even disbelief in who or what was up there. Odin, Thor, Athena, Zeus, Kthulu, who knows who might be up there, sweeping him about at a whim. Even Dimitri would be but a pawn to a God. A wry smile crosses his lips as he ponders on it for a half-second. "Loki..." he thinks. "If anyone ran my life, that bastard trickster would be the one."

He gives a self-serving nod to himself, content with his answer. He combs the beach, careful not to step on or in any of this rampant debris. It was one mess that made him not envy whoever had to clean it up. He stops, for a moment, pausing on the edge of the water. He slips out of his shoes, not having been wearing socks today, for whatever reason, probably since he preferred to be barefoot anyway. He slushes through the watery sand, walking down the beach a-ways. He stares off into the water for a time, his thoughts milling together and rolling around in his head. This tended to happen, whenever he slowed down long enough, his thoughts started to peck at him, flashing before him, reminding him of the things that lurked in his head.

He'd stolen some things. Stolen quite a few things as it was. He'd robbed nearly a 10th of this island blind by now, he had to have. He'd yet to be caught, that was good. He'd gotten into a few dozen scraps here and there. Took a swing or two at a teacher. He'd made a friend out of the bunny boy, Sieffre. That was an interesting "relationship" the two had. One a total psycho, the other too afraid to speak at times. It was fun though, it's one of the reasons he kept Sie around. He'd met a few others, most gaining his contempt, a few gaining as close to neutrality or friendship as he'd give without wishing to posses them.

These and a thousand other thoughts and memories danced around behind his eyes. They didn't matter though, no, not now. What did matter was the one thought, the one idea that eluded him, even in his brain. That wild child, that dark flame, it danced and burned, twisted it's way through his mind, his body, his very soul. It flickered and teased, seeping down him, covering his mind in fog, coating him so heavily he almost felt unable to move at times. This flame burned brightly in his head, burning away any other stray thought. It pushed, kicked, shoved, forced it's way to the front of his consciousness and on occasion into his unconscious mind as well. This little flickering light, this, what should have been a mere spit of light, that burned deep and terrible in his chest was no ordinary flame. It was living, breathing, ever moving. It was free, wild and untamed...yes...untamed, for now. Run, run free....little Rin, for you will be mine yet.

She hadn't left his mind, not truly, not since they'd first met. What a plain day it had been. He was new, the forest was new, his boredom was old. What could he have expected there? A few animals, maybe a hunt, some stormy weather perhaps, nothing that could shake him, that was for sure. He'd gotten sloppy though, he'd let his guard down. Maybe, maybe though, maybe it was a "happy mistake", for in letting his guard down, he'd drawn in the one person his mind was unable to let go of. People to him were for fun. You used them, as they used you, for comfort, fun, selfishness, whatever. You used them, and then they were done. Only the special, the deserving would be kept around, would be not so easily left behind. She'd instantly risen to the top of his list of "worthy" people. At this point she was beyond worthy. He didn't want her, he needed her, needed her so much it was hurting, was driving him mad.

He knew one thing, one thing through all of this. He knew, somehow, she'd be his. She would be his, and when she was, he swore to never let go. There was something, something in her worth having, there must be for him to crave her so badly. He'd keep her close, never letting her stray too far from him. He'd feed her the reactions and emotions she sought and fed from. He'd feed her and please her and keep her as his own, feeding in his own ways from her. She'd be the one possession to keep him happy, even as time flowed. Where others ceased to amuse, or simply broke, she, this little Rin, would be by his side forever. He knew it, it had to be true. Even in the current haze that was his mind, he knew this one thing to be certain, to be so true, it was fact.

The beach, what was one thing about it almost everyone loved? The breeze. That breeze that rolls in off the beach and sweeps you away. What is it that draws you so into that breeze? It was the smell. Most people liked something, the smell of the sun bounding off you, the sweat, the ocean air, the fish, the suntan lotion, what have you. It was those familiar and pleasant scents that drew you in. For him it was none of those, none of those particularly drew him in, but in this particular gust, there was something to sweep him away. As the air fills his lungs, the scent fills his nose. The air drifts in, filling his body to the peak, mind racing as his nose kicks in, firing synapses hot and fast into his mind.

Eyes, eyes that had been closed, snapping open. His jaw clenches, his eyes squinting down now. A chill, a moment of sheer exhilaration shooting through him. His back tenses then arches, spine tingling as he twists, back joints snapping and popping as he twists around, head craning side to side. That smell, that lovely, damned, forsaken smell! Her smell. A smell he'd only been able to enjoy twice, but was so rooted in his brain he could be struck with a mallet and only remember how to breath, blink, and what Rin smelled like. He licks his lips, feeling his mouth watering, half from "hunger", half from excitement.

He breathes in, not deeply now, but quick and shallow. He breaths in, inclining and turning his head, nose following where the smell was strongest, where the air of her was coming from. In an instant his once still body explodes. His feet are flying, his arms pumping at high speed, body sprinting down the beach. He tears the sand up with each step, all sense of finesse and ease gone, replaced by need and desire. He digs in, pulling as much ground away as he can, moving as fast as possible towards where she was. The scent wavered, waning in one direction, trading for a slightly different one. Moving, she was on the move, probably running.

It's this time, now that he's closer he catches the scent, thicker, more alive. It finally registers, it's not the same, not quite. It was mixed with....with so much emotion. Such a pulsing scent of adrenaline, and endorphins, all of that mixed with something fuzzy and bestial. She must have shifted, that had to be it. If she was, then he'd be too, he'd catch her as he knew he could, as a wolf. She could out hunt him, but this wasn't a hunt. He knew where she was, and she wasn't wary of him, probably not yet. He could do this, he could find her.

Feet take off again, pushing this boy through the wind, body whipping through the distance as his hand reaches for his shirt. He peels it off, flinging it away as he undoes his pants. He slows, only for an instant to kick off his pants and boxers. His socks and shoes were long gone now, so he was unbound by clothing. He crouches a bit, to help the change in size. He feels the familiar tightening and burning. That ache that whisked through his body, skin replaced by fur, muscles toning and tightening, tail, ears, fangs, muzzle, wolven feature sprouting. In a moment he's on the floor, on all fours, just as she was. He bursts for, leaving his clothing in the metaphorical, and now literal, dust.

He sprints forward, working his body near it's limit, forcing himself to go and maintain his maximum traveling speed. He pumps at the ground, pushing it away as hard as he can, needing to cover the distance she'd gained. After a few moments that feel like hours to him, a shape appears in his view. He bounds towards it, head dipping, nose working overtime to keep him on track. The familiar outline, now shape, now color, now details, working their way into his vision. He makes out the now clear image of Rin, bursting out and running free on the beach.

He digs his paws into the sand, the sight of his goal giving him second wind as he pushes everything he has into moving the beach away, and her closer. He gets closer, closer, so close now. When he manages to close in on her, he loses time and place, mind unthinking as he usually would. All he knows is she is here, and he is here. He has found her, and she won't get away this time. He wants to stop her, to look at her, to be with and to see her. His feet dig in on last time, muscles tensing down tight as he spring forward, body propelled like a rocket as he lunges forward, diving at her full on. "Rin!!!" his mind screams as he's in mid-air, finally about to catch what he'd been searching for. Finally.


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Tag: Rin my love <3
Notations: Here comes Dimi!
Credit: To Shaggy!
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[Natsumi Sayuri]

Who are you to look upon this creature and seek to own it? Who are you, obsessive, needy thing -- wanting what wasn't yours to have: to love the very thing you would destroy the moment you wrapped your arms around her neck, choked the very freedom that defined her. She was something beyond human ken, moving through a world that was crashing around her like these terrible waves, swirling over her feet with the foam from her tears. But she was strong: where others crumpled under the pain, she endured, with her head held up, with her honor and her pride raised up even higher, a banner, a fire that spiraled out of her control in the palm of her hand. She was hot to the touch, and yet you wanted to hold her?

You wanted to burn with her? You sick, dirty thing, you terrible -- aching -- thing. Wanting what wasn't yours to have. She ran, because she could, because there was the simplicity of her prowess in the run; there was no hunt before her nose, nothing but the game, but the ability to put one foot in front of the other until there was no more breath in her lungs. Beat her down, if you can -- reach up and run your fingers through her fur and make her your own, but know, yes, yes, please know that even dead, she had the power to bite; even lulled by a sense of camaraderie the Wolf was not to be taken lightly.

She was in love with the violence, for it reminded her so viscerally of your life, of her own life running so fiercely in her veins. Without peer, she was the epitome of female: with every slender curve slipping over her tender bones, she moved as if she were dancing with the wind. With force, dignity, there was something so intense about the expression of delight that tangled about in her features --- jaws agape, sucking down the sand and the wind so greedily she could not sort one scent from the next. It was gust of nostalgia, a realization of her newest height that she had just reached. Pin her down, she wanted you to try it; she provoked for the sheer pleasure of winning. She acted the demon because there was a tender angel beneath that did not want to break.

There was a truth here, unspoken: she could not be broken. Bent, in all sorts of directions, disfigured, haphazard and cracked, but everything healed, and she never bowed her head for more than a moment. Nothing more than a heartbeat of acknowledgment: confusion had laid her low. Murazar had cut her legs out from under her --- and yet here she was, her face covered in dirt, her hair in tangles, fear pulsing like something poisonous in the back of her head, but she was here. She was watching the waves, part of the waves. So fearful of drowning, of remembering --- but she had fallen so far into her fear and come out unscathed. She had faced it down with snarling jaws, rumbling voice and she was here, yes, yes, so important this race she led.

Against time, against the very world which would seek to slow her down. Experience the world, they would tell her, but she would not go at your pace -- you have to run faster, little fool, little man. Run faster, faster, until your heart is going to burst, and your feet to stumble beneath her -- she will not wait for you -- but look to the side to see if you are in her shadow, or if you are beside her. Yes, yes, come to her, she wants, she craves, she fucking needs it, that companion, that pack to stabilize the insanity, to ignite the fires to a steady pulsing desire. Her jaws snapped closed, ears flicking to the side as the wind tugged at her, as the girl and the beast intertwined their fingers, their paws, the girl's face buried against the Wolf's scruff -- yes, this was what it was all about. The bruises faded to nothing. The pain evaporated under the intensity of her sheer existence. What did life and death have on something that burned so powerfully?

She was meant to be adored, meant to be watched, but never touched -- the virgin, pure but for that devil inside of her; docile, but for the monstrosity of that anger which swarmed up her legs and made her fangs gleam so preciously in the sun. She was meant for so much more, so much more than this school, than being grounded to a world with rules -- she would make her own. Rin would run until she bled to wrestle her happiness in her jaws and run away with it. If you were to be with her, keep up, darling, beautiful creature -- wanted, unknown creature. Her nose was lifted, her paws flying, so fast, so sure -- she was unparalleled in the run, her body seeming to be made for this action and this action alone.

What was dancing, in comparison to the brutality of this force? Muscles writhed, shadows curved over her shoulders, slipping like snakes around her ribs. Her tail was raised high, so high -- a banner of dominance: this beach was hers, for now, for now, until she could find a way to cross it, to leave behind all of this. To leave behind the sadness, to become anything but the fear. A grin, so quick it was almost an illusion that slipped over her lips, that glimpse of pink tongue against dark fur, black, sick gums. Did she know she was being shadowed? Did she care? Rin was without fear -- she moved as if there was nothing in the world that could bring her down, nothing, not even him which would catch her. How many times had she slipped from his grasp like an eel? How many times had she slipped her body up against him, only to escape, to flee from the intent behind the implication -- but the girl wasn't aware of her physical appeal; she only knew the intensity that played along her skin like electricity, only knew th satisfactory rumble of contentment which spiked through her stomach at his nearness, at the sharp smell of his neck as he opened himself up to her.

It didn't matter that he was trying to claim her -- she was claiming him as well. His words echoed so omnipotent in her head, but the Wolf was a creature without words: she dealt in emotions, and the voice blurred, slurred and became only the tone, the sound of tongue and tooth and breath caressing the shell of her ear; the fur twitched, muscles spasming along her temples. The Wolf was a whore, and adored the attention; the girl was innocent when it came to such games: she followed, she loved, she adored, but would she ever give herself over, open herself up so fiercely to someone who was more than willing to devour her?

Emotions of safety, of a pack begun by the two of them: yin and yang made up of a balance of evil and darker evil, of neutrality and nothing good at all -- the black shadow racing after the light; the light cast from the dark flame. So the black eyes met the blue -- so the world tipped sideways as his scent blasted into her nostrils, opened up her heart and mind to so much turmoil, so much happiness and excitement; where others would have stopped, she surged forward. He challenged her with his need, and she would not leave him without something to think about -- they would be equal or nothing at all. She would be dominant, but never submissive, no, no, never that. A thrill of adrenaline as the sand gave way beneath her -- and his body, coming so close, air born; she tilted her neck and sucked in deep with her nostrils, eating the very scent that came with him.

Oh, Rin was a greedy thing, holding onto the taste of his smell (yes that burning feeling on her tongue where she breathed so harshly)! Ducking under him, her small frame seemed to fold in upon itself, slipping away from the fury of his jaws, from the touch of his paws -- that little bit of fur was too much to pass up, she whirled, sand flying up like so much debris, like so much ash and soot and destruction: her stomach twisted, her muscles contracted but she would do this thing, this exciting game. She darts close to him, her teeth clasping along his tail -- a quick nip and tug before she bounced away, tail raised high, hackles stiff as her ears perked up: there was no snarl on her face, but this excitement, this game that had been proposed and accepted.

Come and catch me, her favorite thing -- most adored and most cherished. Earn the right to be beside her, show her your mettle, earn the trust she is so willing to give. She grins in the wolfish way: her jaws agape, tongue lolling as she pants, lungs heaving from her heavy run. There is sand stuck in her fur but she does not care. He is before her, and that is all there is in her world.

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word count;; 1583
tags;; Dimitri
OOC;; I don't know what your obsession is with length, but congratulations.

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[Dimitri Zhukov]

Seen this all before

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[/i] What was it underneath all of it's mysteries and imperfections? It was a game. That's what it was. It was one big game. Humans were the players, the environment was the setting, and all the creatures, objects, and places were just toys. They were things put into this "game" by God, Gods, or whoever was pulling the strings up there. His twisted faith was what it was, but he was beginning to lean on the side of "something" somewhere up above. Why else would things play out like they do, time after time. Where was the "chaos" of the universe, where was the consistency of life sometimes?

It had it's moments, but life was, more than anything a game. A game played with a petulant six year old. If he's winning, it can see it's way to letting you be, maybe even letting you gain some semblance of happiness, but should you start to pull ahead, sometimes even a little, and you know the cosmic "board being flipped over" is coming, so you'd best bunker down. Not everyone lived the same lives, not everyone saw it the same, he could deal with that. The beauty, the pure simplicity in his theory, was that no one could disprove it though. Say there was no God, you go on believing that, and simply taking things as they come, that's your faith, your mentality. Tell him God was real, and was testing him and he's preach your ear off on the things he's done and why he's simply waiting for his turn to feel hellfire lick his skin. Try and explain some other convoluted religion or sense of faith and there were the varied and infinite examples of life being a cruel bitch to shake even the most rock solid believer.

He loved to chance, loved to play, loved to push and pull, warping people's minds, but it was a special slice of hell for them, a special treat for him when he saw that look of draining in someone's eyes. That look that told him he's shaken their faith, if not severed it entirely. The look that let him know he'd pulled them down to his level. To his faith. To his sense of, things are as bad as they seem. The simplicity of stoicism had worked it's way into his life as far as anything spiritual was concerned. While he wasn't the most calm individual, when it came to the powers that be, he left it where it was. Hell, that was why he was the way he was, at least in part. When life makes it rain on you, you can't just will it to stop, you can't fight something so unseen and omnipotent. What you could do was brain the guy next to you who comments on "how lovely this rain is".

Religion, Faith, Hope, these were all powerful tools in a person's arsenal. Be warned though, they are all the same, they are all double edged swords. Even as you swing away at the dark, keep your eyes wary, waiting for that sword to come 'round, and slice you in twain just as you swung. You could rely on them, but do so blindly, and you'd suffer. That's just the way it was. Dimi made his own way, much like his quarry, Rin. She danced, sang, jumped, spat, ran, lived, breathed, and all around existed "to the beat of her own drummer" as it were. Rin did what Rin wanted. Dimitri was the same in nearly all of these aspects. While they differed in interests, in thought processes, in ideals and in a number of other ways, something big burned the same in their souls.

They were both creatures who sought their own path. Rin valued her freedom seemingly more than anything it seemed, and that was respectable. Aside from her skittish and confusing nature, Dimitri had no problem with Rin. He adored her. He took comfort in all of the ways they were similar, and took intrigue in the ways they differed from each other. He was so wrapped up in his own side of the game, that he was unable to see hers. He wanted her, needed her, simply had to have her. Had to claim her and take her. To pin her down, to hide her away, to show her off, to wave her around as a badge as say, "this is mine, deal with it."

He wanted her. He wanted to be that one that owns her, have her be his, and to have her to know she was his. He'd be so much more comfortable, so much more relaxed when he finally claimed her. He have the thing he'd sought after and wanted more than anything else. He saw in her, the makings of his partner. She wouldn't be just someone he'd taken, and would keep around to have for sheer company or amusement, she would give to him all the things he wanted. She could be there when he needed someone to talk to and drive away the boredom. She could be the person he didn't mind spending time with, a person he could count on and bring on break-ins and robberies. The person who's energy and sheer psychosis matched his own. He saw in her something special, something unable to be passed up. Something he needed as much as his next breath, something that would keep him going, keep him alive and well.

He didn't want to "cage" her as it was, or maybe he did, all he knew was he wanted her. He was completely blissfully unaware of what his wants would do to her. He was also fueled on by the actions she took towards him. She did not come outright and say she was completely against his intentions. She claimed, again and again that he would not claim her, but he took it as, and as she said it, a challenge. Something she was opposing because it was in her nature, and she wasn't one to just openly submit. He'd have to catch and earn her, which he was willing to do, and was hopefully proving. He didn't see that, by owning her, he might be smothering or taking away that which she valued most. Her defiance, and "claim me if you can" attitude drove his desires. It was, "come and get me" not, "No, don't, if you do i'll suffer."

His mind saw what it wanted to see, and what he saw, was Rin. Rin in all of her fiery, seductive glory. He needed to posses this magic she had, had to taste and savor the power that was her. He dives, feeling the air whip past him as he soars downward at his prey. He was airborne for seconds, seconds that felt like eons. He flew at her, eyes locked on her, only her as he flung himself away. He dives in, watching as the sly girl bends, ducking her nubile young body away, bending low to avoid contact with him. He inhales, breathing her in, deep down, into his soul, that now oh so familiar scent alighting his brain a-new. He drinks her down as greedily as she does him. Truly, they were two matched players in this game, this game that was life.

He watches, head pivoting, his body already starting to twist and turn in the air. He soars past her, watching a she moves below him, turning her own body as he shifts his, ever watching her. He is helpless but to watch as her fangs slip from her muzzle. The equivalent of a wolven smile spreading across her face. Equal parts happiness, lust, passion, and rage pump through him as he spies her still moving form. He knows what's about to happen, before it happens, and most certainly as it was happening. He feels her teeth sink into the soft tail and tender flesh of his tail. He would wince, if she'd bitten harder, it would have definitely warranted one, but she was being but playful, for now, for now. Not to mention he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of that. No no, she'd work to see his emotions, or rather...those select emotions. She just simply existing, unearthed from him, feelings that anyone else would be considered overly lucky to see. He couldn't help it though, couldn't help but to exert these feeling when he saw her.

He feels the fangs slip onto, then off of his tail as his lunge carries him past her. He turns, feet skidding into the sand, face turned towards hers. That smile, that god damned fucking smile! The smile that haunted his dreams and nearly every waking moment since they'd met. That damn smile!! Even in her furred form, that smile lingered on her soft lips. Twisted, curled up, tongue lolling out, mocking, laughing at him! How dare she. She felt it, she felt some variant of the need that raced through his chest, she must have. She had to be able to feel how badly she was toying with his mind, forever in his thoughts. He knew it, believed it with all he was. Knew she had to pull from him as much as he did from her, so how could she sit there with that fucking smile across her mouth. Didn't she know what it did to him!? How dare she.

He felt it again, this series of mixed feelings surging and whipping through his body, mixing and melding together, spewing out into his veins, charging him up. What was this? Was this love? Something close? Surely as close as he would ever feel in his heart. Something new and strange had taken a hold of him, something that she had started. Something she'd put in his head, and now mocked him for. He pushes off the floor, legs kicking back into motion so quickly, it was almost as if he'd never stopped running. He turns, angling his body as he turns and gives chase. She was close, still so close. She'd not had the time to gain distance on him, and if he had it his way, she wouldn't get the chance to. They'd met twice before, and twice before, she'd managed to elude him. Not this time though, no. Not. This. Time.

The deer, there had been deer that first time. Deer and an unfamiliar forest were what had stopped him. The club, the club had been strange and wild, so full of people and oddities it had somewhat fogged his mind. She'd managed to get away, and the sheer volume of people had stopped him from being able to get to her fast enough. In his spare time, and on some days, in all his time, he'd been looking for her. Keeping his nose to the wind, waiting...watching, craving that smell that only she could give off. Now she was here, now he had her again, and this time, oh this time, she'd be his. He'd die sooner than let her go again.

His determination and crazed want spurs him on, keeping him strong, keeping his legs pumping as he gives chase. Too long, too long had she been without him. Too long had she flashed that oh so cocky, winning "Rin" smile. Too long had it tormented his thoughts. Too long had she given a side glance and seductive wiggle of her ass, or turn of her hips. Too long had she decided she could rub and press her sleek, agile body against him, filling him to the brim with these thoughts, with these feelings, things he couldn't shake. Too long had she been one big tease to him. No longer! He would suffer these transgressions no longer. He felt something, something deep, something he might be considered to possibly call love for Rin. He felt for her more strongly than anyone before her.

She would know it. This time, this time for sure. This time, he'd catch her, pin her down, and he'd make her know he was not to be toyed with. He'd prove to her what he could do. He'd make her eat her taunting words of "prove you deserve me." He'd prove it alright, he'd give her whatever she wanted, while robbing all he needed from her. He'd take and give, all the while winning in glorious victory, showing her just what Dimitri Zhukov could do. He'd show her just how much she meant, show her just how much her sly, seductive ways had enthralled him. How much these thoughts stuck with him, making some days unbearable, and others mildly tolerable at best. He'd show her just how badly he wanted to her to be his. Soon, soon she would see the true beast that laid within. Run Rin, run. Run...while you can..

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Tag:Natsumi Sayuri, who'll be mine xD
Notations:Welcome to the Gun Show biotch xD
Credit: To Shaggy!
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[Natsumi Sayuri]

This was their world: cold nights, brutality, anger rising up to sharpen against flesh against bleeding, broken hearts. Their world was of chaos, of reality -- in their eyes the darkness of disillusion was complete. No lies, between them -- no false beliefs of a God that did not exist, and never would. No family to hold them, to care for them: only guilt, born in blood, yes, yes, in their own goddamn blood. It was a sickness, but one they cherished, one they honed to a keen edge to use and be abused. They were the weapons, now. No longer the victims, but the predators come to stalk in the night. No longer the children ducking under a father's wrath, but an adult, a young teen standing up against the world: no backing down now. None of that cowardice. Only strength -- only their eyes to meet and never lower beneath their wants. It was their link -- this shared thought, mind running side-by-side, eyes seeing the world for it's true colors: blacks and blues, smeared with a dozen shades and all of them grey. So many nameless colors, emotions that had labels but could not be recognized by the wrangled scars they left on the skin.

They were both born of addictions, of hatreds, of darker currents of thought -- they craved the violence, for the violence was a release of stress. It brought order, made sense in their chaotic, ruined world. Spawns, spat out in the midst of tar and oil, they were nothing pure, and yet they remained the purest of them all. He could fall and fall again, and still she would lift her muzzle and see if he could keep up -- though she would never stop. There was no point in stopping, no point in slowing down for another person, not after Murazar, especially after Murazar. He had taught her the last lesson she would ever have to learn: trust no one but yourself.

So she lingers between fascination and desire, the pulsing need to draw him closer, to be ignited by his nearness -- and yet could she ever open herself up to him? Did it matter? He did not want it; oh, ho, ho -- she may have chuckled, but there was only the rumbling of her voice writhing over the contours of her wretched tongue. In this form, there was only silence, or singing -- no talk, no speech but that of the body, the physicality of her fangs in his fur, of her body tensing, and flinging itself to the left, drawing him out, toward her -- always toward her.

If she could keep his burning eyes on her all the time, she would be content. Only look at me but do not forget that the game can become the reality when it had been played too often, too heartily. She was too fond of this game, of pulling him along, of holding him in the palm of her hand -- come to me, she is calling, with her tail flicking up in a flirtatious way, challenging, beckoning. Will he come? Will he resent her? But even his resentment would be precious.

Anything at all that did not have to do with silence and emptiness is what she sought: it was the provocation, the knowledge, the surety that she had dug beneath his skin, that he wanted to look at her, wanted to be near her, to scream her name until the fire consumed him as well. This was their game, their little play that went on and on and on, a circle, a cycle, a pattern that swept them off their feet and into the abysmal dawn of their nighttime horrors. She stirred the worst in him, and he, yes, yes, he would devour her, and she was in love with the danger of it all.

Testing, provoking, she tread a line, a barrier which had been set up for all lines called to her, all challenges called to her tempestuous spirit. While there is a chance it can be outdone, so is Rin, patrolling the edge, sniffing along for the weakness in the blood. She circled him, whenever they met, her nose hunting his weakness, looking for spots of softness that could be used --- he would be a tool, or a partner, an equal or nothing at all. So she ran, instead of standing, waiting for him. She forced him to move with her body, with her thoughts and actions: she felt, and he moved in tandem with her heart. It was how it was supposed to be.

One affected the other -- they were but gears, parts of a whole that could not be without. It was love and lust and hatred all rolled up in a fierce loyalty that could never be unbound; the moment he needed her, she did not doubt she would race to his side. The moment he betrayed her, she would still be there, watching him, waiting for him in the shadows of her fiery hell. Let them burn together, die together, roam together in a world that believed in them as fiercely as they believed in it. Who is to say who the devil truly was? Who was to say She was more evil than he -- or that He was far more cruel than she could ever be?

In place of faith, they would build their own fortress, and it was good, and it was right; her heart pounded in her chest, and the world kept turning -- the wind kept pushing into her nose, her mouth, her lungs, forcing her body to work and move in ways that it can only move when she was truly at the peak of happiness and adrenaline. But she should have known -- this little bit of foreshadowing.

She should have known the affect she would have, should have felt in the air that crackled like lightning around them; should have smelled it like the sulfur of their burning desires. He was dangerous, but she was provoking the monster, wanting the beast more than the man, craving the moment when all chains fell away and he surged forward with that ancient hunger -- she knew what she did, and yet she could not stop herself -- could not see the truest danger lay not in the beast but in the man.

The Trap she had set with each turn of her hips, with each flutter of her eyelashes, each turn of her maw as she snapped her fangs in his face or whirled from his sight -- these were for the beast, but man is a beast more evil than any wolf, and it was to this monstrosity that she was calling, this darker force that she coaxed with sweet treats and frustrations. Wake up, wake up little girl, the monster was coming, slipping it's chains and rubbing it's wrists. It wants your throat beneath it's hands and it would have you one way or another.

The black shadow does not pause -- she comes to a complete halt; throwing her weight to the right, she pivots, sand flying into the air, catching in the playful nature of the wind -- was that the echo of waves crashing in her ears or the sound of her heart hammering? Was that blood, or water which now thickened the bond between her and him? She turned, so quick, bouncing against the sand and jumping toward him, a mimicry of his own first attempt -- a laugh, a slap in the face. Let me see what you can do -- but these are not true thoughts, only impression of a want, a direction she wished, a playfulness which has surfaced and will not let be. The monster is coming for her, with it's jaws open wide, ready to swallow her whole and she is running full tilt into it's mouth: air born as he was, her body far more slender, pitch black and touched by wind, rain and salt.

These were the scents of freedom, these were the feelings she had long since ached to capture: this simplicity, of this game which stretched out between the two of them as innocently as a child reaching for it's mother's hand. It is fate, it is bound to happen -- but to have them charging toward each other, so intent on the other's destruction... Rin's mouth opens, fangs unsheathed but there is a softness in her shoulders, a curious tilt of her ears --- she will not be sinking deep into flesh. It is a game, as always, this one lighter than the last, much lighter than the one which is slowly, so slowly stalking them this day.

--------------------- in his eyes, she sees the world as it should be: cynical and dark, full of doubts and distrust. In his eyes, she sees the world as it is, and it is a comfortable sight, one that frees her to act as selfishly as she wishes. So she burns, in hopes of burning him, of roping him tight to her side and keeping her bounding after her when the tide finally leaves and she's running out into the endless waters looking for newer horizons. Were their wants so different after all? How laughable, the end of this play will be; how terrible, the regrets that will open their hearts like sores festering on an old wound. Death awaits them at every turn, and Rin is too busy looking into his eyes to fear it's breath on her neck, the stench of it's passing on her fur.

It is the strength in pack which sustains her, and the bonds which ropes her tightly to him, controlling her, ruling her; together, there is nothing to fear. Who fears death? Not Rin, who has run under his shadow for years.

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word count;; 1653
tags;; Dimitri
OOC;; say hello to Rin

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[Natsumi Sayuri]

There is a blackness in their hearts that toys with their goodness: it plays hide-and-seek, forcing the good to disappear under it's forceful hand. They cannot help it -- they who are puppets to the whimsical nature of cynicism and sensibilities. Never let it be said that Rin was anything sensible in the slightest: she was in love with the chaos in herself, coaxing it forward with each little panted breath of desire that puffed the air around them. The storm had come and laid waste to their world... Rin flew in the midst of it, her jaws agape, her eyes fiery in their blackness, staring so deeply into the ice that met her. He was indecisive, and she enjoyed it, felt delirium fever through her mind as she jerked her weight to the side and fell to her paws with the littlest stumble on the sand.

It does not last long. Rin was not built for stillness, so she circles, she nips, she toys -- trying to draw him out of his hesitation, this little bit of inability that has come when the tracks have been moved: will the train continue on heedless, or shall it stall and fall to pieces? She aches to see the pieces, to put each delicate piece in her mouth and rub her tongue over it. Instead, she simpers, she purrs, she growls, rubbing her body up against his, her ears flicking down against her skull: but it is not stillness she craves. It is motion, it is speech: he is not as close to the Wolf as she is.

so she changes to fit into his world, drawing him out with each gentle push of the Wolf into human's skin. The sand is hot against her body, and it pulses like fire -- but it is all lies as the fire burns inside of her, pulsing, aching, slipping up like smoke to tangle in the strands of her veins. She is without peer when it comes to heat, when the fur is disappearing beneath the shine of her milk-white skin: where the depth-less ache of her Wolf-eyes melts away into almond loveliness, smoldering as wanting -- there are human emotions now, yes, yes, complex and in love with this bit of madness.

There is a wolf before her, but there is no fear as the woman reaches out, as the change falls away from her as if there was no pain, only this delirious touch of desire pooling between her legs -- her hands reach out to caress the fur, to hold onto that muzzle cupped so gently in her palms. She nears, though he could tear her face off, though if she were he, she would have done it already. It was weakness to give up the seat of power, but in this, she will submit -- in this glorious moment of her skin against his fur, of the heat which moves like the fire in her heart, which flickers and rubs itself raw against each other, she will fall under, allow her head to bow.

Though her eyes do not leave his -- though the challenge is still there, though the unspoken words still linger like a knife tossed between them: who will be the first to wield it? She smiles, that cloying, terrible smile, that god damned terrible smile full of arrogance and cruelty, full of smug self-satisfaction and a deep-rooted contentment with everything that she is: there is nothing humble about her smile. There is only fire, only terrible need expressed through the lilting curve of lip hiding the hint of the tooth hiding within.

Will there be fangs? Or will she remain in this momentous breath, this bit of eternity which has come to their fingers and dangles as dangerously as the dagger. Frozen, in this brief interlude of silence she leans forward, her breath peppering his nose as she tilts ever so slightly, as she bares her throat to those fangs: yes, yes, this is the game which has become the reality.

Fingers slip into his scruff, searching for the rumbling bass of his growl, wanting to feel it reverberating and echoing under her hands, to feel it simmer in her own blood as the Wolf is rising -- no, no, it has never left. It lingers in every bit of her, every little niche and corner, as part of this game as the girl. Eyelids flickering, she stares at the white's jaws with a veritable hunger, lust and desire fanning the flames so that the smoke clouds her eyes, her senses. But Rin has never been sensible. Rin has always, always, always reached out for that which should never be touched.

With breast and breath and that tantalizing smile tugging on the corner of her lips, she lures him forward, though she submits to him -- this once, this moment, come, come to me. For she has already come to him.

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word count;; 827
tags;; Dimitri ^-^
OOC;; OH-NO! Double posting! Who do you think you are?!

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[Dimitri Zhukov]

Seen this all before

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[/i] it was that was burning, simply that it was, and it captured his thoughts.

There she was. There was the object of his burning desire. She was there, just ahead, just out of his reach. Not for long though, not if he had his say in the matter. She wouldn't get away, not again, not this time. He was so amped up, he'd break her legs this time sooner then let her trot off with the smug smile on her lips. He runs, body titled forward, momentum rocketing him at her, he could feel the distance between them closing. She seemed closer, ...closer yet.....a little more. The gap seemed to be closing in on itself, but...why? Was this merely an illusion induced by his own sick mind? Was this merely him wanting her so bad that he thought he was winning when he wasn't?

No, it turned out it was neither. He wasn't technically getting closer, and he wasn't fully delusional, not yet at least. She was actually stopping. She was slowing her pace, feet grinding in the sand before her flank flexed and her legs shifted, her body turning, moving again now, but different from before. Now she was turning, and now she was in motion again, rocketing herself towards him. He growls, low and loud in his throat, feet thundering to bring him at her as she made her way to him. He barrels in, prepared to jump, to lunge, to pin, to strike. He was ready to attack back at her, no matter how she came at him.


He watches, ever staring, ever watching, transfixed on her movements. He sees as she leaps, taking flight and soaring at him. He digs his feet down, coming to a screeching halt as he skids closer to her lunge. Thirty thoughts cross his mind at once, all screaming for attention. "Catch her, jump back, side-step her, snap your fangs into her, claw at her face, move idiot!" his mind screams. He sinks down, steadying himself, ready to barrel his weight into her, seeing as it served him well last time. When he's mere moments from flinging himself into her, he stops. Something isn't right. His mind is screaming for action, the action that she was trying to goad out of him.

Something was in her eyes, or something was lacking maybe. Something, oh something simply wasn't right. His body freezes, locked under where she was coming at, and he couldn't move, but didn't know why. He stayed motionless, even as she descended upon him, his mind writhing and cursing at him. At what was conceivably the last moment he sees as she falls short, coming to a stop, landing ever so gracefully before him. He wants to move, wants to rush out and meet her, wants to tackle her. He remains still however, to his body's protest. There is something, some human thing still alive and awake in him. Something was left, trying to make sense of things, and figure out why and how to deal with their situation.


It was losing though, whatever it was. Whatever it was that kept him sane, it was fading, being swallowed by that beast that lurked under his skin. The beast he could usually keep tame, the beast that powered it's way through Rin's veins. The beast she'd been trying to dig out from him. It was here, clawing at the remains of his restraint and sanity. It was here, threatening to break free and rape, pillage, and murder to sate itself. He watches, eyes ever moving, watching as she comes near, moving closer and closer.

A lesser person's mind would have snapped. Would have been melted and reduced to cinders after that. He was losing his mind, at least his grip on it, but it was there, it had to be. Why else would it burn so strongly as she got closer, her scent forcing it's way up his nose, into his thoughts. He mouth lulls open, tongue hanging out involuntarily as he watches her. She moves, bends, exists around him. She circles him, nipping at his, flicking her tongue out, ears tilting as she toys with him. He watches, greedily stealing in her smell and sight as she moves.

His mind once again screams for action, screams for something to happen, to do. His eyes flick watching as she moves away. He stops a moment, mind quieting as she begins to shift. Her body shrinks, and yet grows. Her fur melds into skin, her claws into digits, soft, supple skin forming over her. She stands up, moving close to him again. He drinks her in, completely thankful and admiring the view she was presenting him with. He would be lying if he said he hadn't been wanting to see this sight. Now that he was, he was quite pleased somewhere in the back of his mind. That inner beast still stood ready, still plotting it's escape.

For now it was sated, for a moment, there could be sanity in his ravaged brain. This sight, triggering his human "male" responses, sending his thoughts off on their own tangent as her closeness and smell ignite their own. There is a moment of peace, a moment of clarity, enjoyable, especially in comparison to the rage that had driven him into this situation so far. He stares, half his mind still drifting in his own lust ridden thoughts, the other still focusing on her. He watches as she moves close, and reaches a hand out to him.

She pets him, her hand moving through his fur. He tilts his head into the touch a bit, her hand feeling good to the touch. Her soft skin felt nice, and it soothed him a bit. His brain was divided into three unequal parts and they were all vying for his attention. His "male" thoughts were trapped in a spiral of lust and thoughts, keeping him calm for the moment. His energetic rage side was still chomping at the bit to break out and strike this little tease. The other, smallest part, was his rational side trying to surface again, to question why she was doing this.

It didn't matter, not in the long run. It didn't matter cause it wouldn't last. Out of no where it seemed, there it was. The one thing that he didn't need. That smile. That Gods cursed, mother fucking, lousy, dirty, under-handed, gloating smile! How dare she!? How could she?! Now?! Now of all times!! It was all it took. It was all he needed. His thoughts did something close to merge, melding into one singularity. All the rage came firing back, pulsing through his system. Pumped out and thrust forward it slammed into his brain, twisting his mind beyond his threshold of control. She was close, so very close. She had moved in front of him, her neck now bared to him.

"Bite her! Slash her! Tear her throat out! Make her suffer, make her hurt, make her pay!!" His mind screams, the inner wolf seeping out, looking to fulfill it's own agenda now. He pounces forward, knocking her off balance. As she falls down, back hitting the sand he moves over her. He slowly walks over her, the long, low growl pulsing out of his throat as he brings himself to face her. His front claws press down, on the tops of her shoulders, keeping her in place as best he can, his face bending low to growl in her face.

His mind pounces, paces, races, and churns, overcome with new, dark thoughts, unsure of what to do, of what to do first. He growls again, snapping his jaws in her face, giving her a look mixed with anger and disgust. He was tired, so tired of her actions. So tired of playing the pawn, so tired of being teased. Her smile, that wicked smile, she wanted to flash it? Fine. He could flash his own. As he thinks his, his mouth opens again, fangs bared in her face. She had dared to do this, to tease him then just coyly walk up and bare her neck. If she was so confident, then he'd teach her how not to be!.

He quickly shifts down, mouth opening as his mind races with all the thoughts of how she'd tormented him. His teeth wrap around her throat, pinching down. He applies some pressure as his mind tosses the visions of her wiggling ass, her evil smile, her arrogant stride, all the things he'd felt wrong by. The pressure brings his teeth against her flesh enough to tear a line down her throat. As the blood begins to seep it spills over his tongue. The shock of the taste is enough to snap him back into terms with reality.

His mouth opens, jaws letting go as he looks down at the semi-faint, but still slowly bleeding wound on her neck. He shifts then, his body crouching low as his bones pop and burn, his muscles reverting, fur giving place to his flesh. He crouches over her, his hand moving to her neck, touching the wound, in hopes of stopping the bleeding faster. His eyes look down into hers. All the pent up rage, the emotion, it was there, but it was back to smoldering behind his wall of "rationality." At least....for now it was. He looks down at her, his eyes locked on hers. His mouth opens, the taste of blood still lingering. He swallows once, before the word comes, the word that summed up and meant everything to this situation. The word of that which maintained his thoughts more than anything. The word that falls from his lips as he looks down at her. "Rin... He says, half finished thoughts, lesser ideas clinging to it. Her name...that was all he said, all he could think to say...if only she was able to read his mind, to know what else he wanted to say with that word.


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Tag: Miss Rin
Notations: Thank you for double posting, and sorry it took so long >.> my bad..
Credit: To Shaggy!
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[Natsumi Sayuri]

What is there of beauty, covered by the fateful flaws that line her face? That purr out from between her quivering lips -- she is smiling, that god damned, hated smile, but it is the smile of her victory, the smile of her desire. Rin is no longer Rin, but a creature forged of fog and deception, a little girl trying to fit a mold of your perfection -- so she smiles, that ghastly stretch of her lips, that little bit of tongue darting out between her teeth. Yes, yes, remember the brutality of those fangs, the confusion of her entire being. She is burning -- but it is not the passion of her creature that burns so bright. She is the fire, the inconceivable act of burning as she opens her arms to the heat and is consumed. There is only char to be left in her wake -- but it is better to burn in this way than to fall into the numbness mediocrity.

Rin is without peer; Rin is pushed down, her hair splaying out like reaching tendrils of the monster vivid in her skin. Without words, she is speaking: her eyes are on fire, her heart is made of flames, her bones of metal bending, and hammered into this particular shape by the heat of his forge. Moldable, deplorable creature, she is almost stretched out beneath him though he is using force, though his mind is fueled by death and blood -- but it is the blood and the beast that most intrigue her -- that she is most warped by.

No longer part of humanity, she is the most twisted sort of woman, luring him on with her teasing, hateful way, loving the way in which he reacts to her body, to the power that is shifting and chaffing under her skin: pull it away -- she is naked beneath him, but there is nothing vulnerable about the way she smiles. There is nothing sad about the way she tilts that beautiful neck, her chin so haughty and unbroken. She begs for it, reaches for it, yearns for the hands that would reach forward and choke the life out of her -- to be the one who would be equal, but never equal, no, never at all. It is the play she has begun to act, and until the curtains are drawn, so she will remain in this human's clothes, at once Wolf and Girl, at once neither of those things at all but the elemental disaster. Fire.

Dimitri is a hot knot of frustration, and it spills over her as lava, a teeming pool of magma dripping out from his eyes, from the tender touch of his fangs around her neck; he presses down and she arches up into it, her fingers reaching up as if they would knot in his fur and keep him there, destroying her, claiming what she knows could never be claim. Let him laugh and sneer; let him draw her blood and run his rough cold hands over her body -- there is nothing here that he can really touch, for the thing which attracts is the thing he can never have. It is this subconscious pleasure that arouses her to this height of sensitivity, as breath eases past her lips, as her eyes flutter closed.

There is pain, but it is so brief as he withdraws: boneless she falls to the sand, feeling the hard edges sinking into the crevices of her body. No matter, no matter at all when there is only him and her, only this filth that must be collected between them. There is no beauty here -- only distress and frustration, only anger and that cunning edge of madness that tugs on the corners of her lips; she is still smiling, ever so slightly, a ghost of that confidence. Untouched, she bleeds as if her body is weeping; unshattered, the confidence rises up like a tidal wave to bring languor where pleasure had not yet reached. The Wolf dances behind her eyes, it's mouth agape, it's love nothing of love at all but an obsession, for it will fall into grief. It will destroy the thing it loves, but it cannot stop it's feet from moving forward; it cannot halt the madness that has already begun to fester in Rin's mind, which has changed her from the girl she had been.

No longer the victim, Rin has been corrupted, falling lower than the Wolf would ever go; she has reached down into the earth and covered herself in the filth of this debasement, and takes a certain pleasure in knowing her family would hate her, resent her. Falling a little bit in love with the hard cut of anger, she follows this line of bestiality, her eyes alight and brilliant as she raises up, sitting upright, her hair spilling forward -- so black against the elicit paleness of her skin. She is made of blacks and whites, and all the greys that compound her are the festered, poisonous doubts which had corrupted her and made her flaws a living sin.

She reaches out in this manner, though his mouth is full of her mouth, though his eyes are on the border of her own madness: she wants to unleash it, to know that she is not alone, to know that when the world crumbles, he will be falling with her. Rin, dirty, hateful Rin, putrescence guised in the heat of purity and passion -- she wants to dirty him with this desire, to blacken the last of his goodness with her body, with her nature. And she will, poor man, poor man indeed. He is the monster which will consume her, but she is the catalyst, the little bit of kindness smothered by the unruly and wild. She smiles, yes, that hated smile -- that confident smile as her arms reach out to rest lightly on his shoulders, her lips hovering so close to his, to the taste of his breath on her tongue, to the taste and smell of her own blood so strong and pungent. So close, so close, "My turn" she murmurs, fingers running down his skin, her small weight suddenly given strength as she pushes him back as a rising growl purrs out so prettily between the luscious lines of lip and tongue: she licks his skin, tasting him, loving him, hating him. A knot of confusion is defined by the whims of her terrible nature, and she takes what she wants, from him, from herself, from the world: her lips hover over his neck, but she is shifting, so quickly with the Wolf in her heart, fueling the very blood in her veins.

Without the Wolf, Rin is simply without constraint. Fangs pierce into his skin, tongue pressing against the timid wound -- but she is shifting back already, a quick blink of an eye where she and the Wolf had felt eternity. Blood pulses in her neck, seeping downward, downward; blood slips over her tongue as she rumbles out a growl of deep, untroubled satisfaction. "Mine, mine, mine," she croons, her body pressed against him, heedless of her nakedness. Heedless of the danger, of the bomb she is ignited with her fingers, with her voice, with that stupidity that makes her Alpha.

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word count;; 1226
tags;; Dimitri
OOC;; This is getting a bit hot'n'heavy ain't it? XD Oh, post thanks to The Nobodies, by MM XD the basics, man lol

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[Dimitri Zhukov]

Seen this all before.

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[/i] who was there for his taking. She was the one that would be taken from. The anger, the emotion pulses up, cranking through his body and mind again, and he's reacting before he can think again. His hands comes up, wrapping around her as he pushes his chest up tightly to her. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent. His arms squeeze her in tightly to him, resting on her back as he hugs her. Her scent was driving him mad, fueling his thoughts on. They were spilling forth, demanding him to go on, do more, more, MORE! His wavering wall of sanity was the only things keeping him from going farther, or faster.

His tongue lulls out, licking along her neck, tasting the sweetness of her skin. He kisses and bites gently along her neck, hands sliding down her back. His hands continue to slide down, moving along the curves of her backside. His hands reach around her, cupping her rear in his hands, pulling her up a bit, up close against him. His mouth moves up, locking his lips onto hers as he growls quietly, hands working over her ass. He continues to kiss her for a minute before using his grip on her to lift her up a bit as he kisses her once more. He moves over her, while lowering her down, pushing her onto her back as he moves over her.

He moves over her as she's placed on the ground, eyes locked down on her. One hand runs down her side, as the other moves up, knotting itself in her hair. He forces his mouth against her neck, licking and biting again as he presses against her. He rakes his teeth down her neck, tugging on her hair a bit, his hand moving up to roam around her chest, feeling, groping, claiming, enjoying the feel of her flesh in his hand. He continues to push up against her, one hand keeping her head taut and held back, the other playing with her breasts as he trails bites and kisses up her neck, moving to her ear. He gently bites her earlobe, tugging it away a bit between his teeth. He releases it, hands still holding her and roaming her body as he growls into her ear. "Mine..."

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Tag: The lovely miss Rin
Notations: *fans self* my oh my yes it is Hehe. Enjoy.
Ooh. Ooh! And the muse song? Stricken by Disturbed. Could there have been a better choice? Heh
Credit: To Shaggy!
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[Natsumi Sayuri]

The waves pounded against the shore, pulsing and shoving forward as if with vicious brutality it could claim a place that could never be truly breached; or was that, simply, her pulse which thrummed in her ear like sweet music? She was being enthralled, enchanted, pulled forward but jumping there, too. Was this her choice, or the Wolf's? Was this no choice at all but the a deep visceral need which had been planted by his presence? Rin was nothing like Dimitri, who cared so deeply about the hows and whys -- there was only the present, only this extension of her caring and her need which pulsed as naughtily down in her loins as it did in her chest, as it did in the very tips of her fingers.

The sand was harsh against her skin, her breath harsher still as she tried to catch up to the pace he was beginning to set: the wild-runner was suddenly falling behind, her knowledge and her experience falling away before the force of his hands where they touched her, brought fire to a blazing merriment. She sizzled and burned, ashes falling away from her soul, but whether she was being purified or condemned she could not tell.

There was only this: only the scent of his power, the feeling of it slipping over her skin, and burying underneath. Her eyes fluttered closed, that nasty smile still there, full of confidence and delight, full of so many arrogant things that reflected the inner turmoil of her heart: she was full to the brim, and stretching tighter and tighter. The air was harder to breath, the earth felt as if it were rising up, up, to wrap them up in it's palm and use the fire of their desire to meld them together. Briefly, she thought of Luke, but it was so quick, it was barely acknowledged.

Here, there was only Dimitri. There was only his anger and his frustrations -- there was only his blood lust, his arrogance rubbing her, creating heated friction with each touch of his hands over her body, claiming her, needing her, desiring her. This was no gentility -- in this, she understood the spoken language of their wild natures. Humans claimed with their words, but Wolves claimed with actions, with need rubbing fur raw, with fangs bleeding necks dry. His hands lifted her up, and like an offering her back arched, her hair spilling back over her shoulder, chin raised.

What was nakedness in comparison to the struggle of power which shifted between them? What was this perceived vulnerability to the reality of their equal hatred and love? In one hand -- her skin touched, her body bending and moldable as she folded beneath him, stretched out under him. Rin's eyes were heavy-set, full of languor and lurid attraction: so delicate the curve of her eyelashes tipped so carefully against the flat equally delicate curves of her high cheekbones.

She was doll beneath his might, but within the doll there raged the element of her passion, the thing which defined her every crevice, her every need, her every whispered breath. The voice rang out in silence, filling her body with every motion he made: she compensated, moved, shifted, her body an extension of his own. Was there fear that lurked in the girl's eyes? Did she understand what was going on? Or was she, like the Wolf, lost in the mental haze of this delusion, full of the emotion, and not enough of the physical act that would proceed this? Or was she so needy that any affection, even this passing fling, spurred her on to extremes she would never have thought to give?

Was this choice then, or only perceived chance which parted her lips against the onslaught of his hot desire, that parted thighs and hearts to the warmth that turned the flame of her existence into a smoldering fire? She smelled the smoke, perfume and sweat slickening between their legs, their arms, their bellies where they were rubbed. He touched her, and she burned, burned; dare she touch him?

There was no need -- she held the reins as surely as he fastened them on her. Breath burst forth from between her lips, a purring growl full of bass rumbling through her neck and chest, vibrating skin brushing against his own hard, taut lines of passion. Was there hatred in his eyes? God, she hoped so -- and drew him closer as she listened to the murmur, to the hard intensity of his diamond-cut eyes: Mine...

Did worry slip through Rin's expression? If it did, it went too fast to attract notice. The growl trickled into laughter, a slurring, purring laugh of contentment as she tilts her head against the flat of his cheek and smiles that god-awful smile. "But remember I don't share." and she arched her neck, biting into his, with relish, knowing the moment she would push him over the edge, aching for it, wanting to see him unleashed and untethered. Or perhaps she was too delirious from the fog of physical pleasure that she did not know what she did, but only perceived a superior knowledge of what she truly, knew absolutely nothing about.

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word count;; 874
tags;; Dimi-love
OOC;; heh-heh

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[Dimitri Zhukov]

Seen this all before

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[/i] had wanted, not what they'd wanted.

Assumptions were said to be bad, because typically you'd get at least half of them wrong, and assume the wrong frame of mind about someone/something, and blah blah blah, you shouldn't do it. Yet, people did. People would, and would keep on doing it, because it was human nature. He loved to play, loved to tease, loved to pit what he thought was right, against what actually was. When he was wrong, it was dismissed and he moved on, almost always without any sense of apology, and certainly without remorse. When he was right, which was more often the case, a cocky smile and a sense of victory was to be had, knowing he'd been right, yet again.

Something though, something rang falsely about this girl. This magnificently proud and voluptuous beast that was writhing below him. She was at the same time, more open and honest than anyone he'd met before, but with such a duality of the minds, the biggest liar and wielder of deceit he'd known. Had he not had feelings for her the way he did, it wouldn't have been hard, he thought, to focus his mind on a task it'd done a thousand times before. He'd slow down, force out the lingering thoughts of how nicely her ass wiggled when she walked, or how appealing the curves of her hips and chest were in his eye. He'd slow and force them out, leaving only the cold, harsh facts that he could latch onto and rip her apart with.

True, true they were both hunters, and true again that she was the better one. However, the area in which she lacked, he acceled. She was a creature of emotion. She leaped before she looked, she reacted, fast and clean. She was perhaps not incapable of deeper thought, but she sure didn't prefer it to anything else. She didn't want to stop, for even the second it would take to think about something deeper than "just because". He had a keen mind, and good senses and he used them to decimate his enemies and allies alike, long before they could reach him with something. He could think, and plot, and scheme. He'd make things go his way. He'd win what he wanted, or he'd take what he wanted.

With her, his scheming only seemed to drive her insane, it made her unwind and pull away, but it didn't stop him from using it. He felt he had to use it, keep thinking, to get a fix on her and to keep up with her. She was so free, so reckless it let her do amazing things. He knew, in his soul, if he was to just let go like that, to always act with no thought, he'd be caught. He's mess up, be found, make a mistake, and someone would end his fun. Something would go wrong, simply because, no one possessed the kind of blind luck that this girl did. It maddened him just how she managed to get away with so many things.

She has ensnared his mind, captivated his thoughts, and ...was it...distraction he sensed from her? Was it not her full attention that he was commanding? It was pissing him off rather rapidly, and rather fiercely. While the flick of worry may have gone unnoticed, the lingering moment of thought of Luke didn't. He didn't know Luke, hadn't met him yet, but didn't need to to know that he was nothing more than unwanted competition. Competition for her attention, and possibly her affections, and he wasn't planning on a game he had a chance of losing. This person who was occupying her thoughts, however briefly, in what was in his mind a moment of great victory and conquest for him, would need to be dealt with.

It lingered now, rotting in his mind. It was truthfully only seconds, but it felt like eons bouncing around in his head. It wouldn't leave him, not until he did something about it at some point, and he knew that. He breathes in her scent, something easy to do now that they were so close, being so free, so intimate. His hands caress her body, taking pleasure in feeling her bared flesh in his fingers, digits bumping over the curves of her rear, coming up along her hips, moving to the valleys of her chest, rolling, touching, flexing, feeling. He was thoroughly enjoying the actions with her. However, that hollow in his mind that was allowing for a split between lust and anger a minute ago was now filled with thoughts of who this other boy was.

He breathes her in again, smelling her strongly. He smelled her scent mixed with the air. She smelled of the sand, the sand his body was pushing her in to, not letting her away, not this time. She smelled of the sea, of the tang of the salt water. She smelled of rain, for yes, rain had it's own scent. What didn't matter about these scents were that they were fresh, fresh meaning they'd only just touched her skin. They were also scents of things not living. The sand couldn't take her away, the rain couldn't keep her from him, the salt water didn't pose a tangible barrier that might impede his actions toward her. Whatever this scent was, it lingered. It was on her, it was trace, minute, but...it was there, and that was the point. There was a scent on her that wasn't him, it wasn't her, and it wasn't something non-organic.

He breathers her in again, taking a deeper breath, locking away the scent of whoever this was deep inside his mind. Male, that was for sure, and...a cat. Oh yes, how wonderful. It just would be one of those fucking felines wandering around the damn place, Gods knew there were enough of them. He'd encountered what, 6, 7 at least, and there were more, he could smell the aroma of cat stink almost anywhere he went on campus, or off. This scent was on her, lingering on her skin, but buried, meaning she hadn't seem him in a while, but recently enough that he'd smelt it. This wasn't going to sit well with him, no, no this was going to ravage his mind the way he was ravaging her body. This would haunt him until he found and broke whoever it was that left this smell on Rin, on his Rin.

It would drive him mad, drive him to hunt and hurt, maybe even killing this person who might stand in his way. For now, for now he'd let it be, let it be so that he won't need to kill this person yet, but it was still spurring him on. Her words, her words also didn't help how he was feeling. She didn't like share huh? What a coincidence, neither did he. He moves his hands along her body again, taking one more moment to feel her up, taking hold of her ass and her breasts, doing things he'd been wanting to for some time now. He slides his hands down, moving along her arms, pushing her down a bit as he brings his body close to hers.

He looks at her, eyes locked on hers. If ever there was a moment that his inner animal could be seen, it was now. That burning liquid passion that was her wolf ,that was ever visible burning in her eyes. The equivalent of that that he could posses, was what was in his eyes at this moment. Seconds, Minutes, Hours, Days, Weeks. For the stretch of time they'd known each other she'd been on his mind. A passing fancy at first maybe, but he'd doubted it. Even back then he was sure she was something more, why else would he be so captivated. As her got more of her, it wasn't enough. He wanted more, needed more of her. Every little flutter of an eye, every little tilt of the head sucked him in more, made him want to be with her. Every little sly slither of her hip, every "coincidental" bend of the waist and wiggle of her ass, had driven what was pooling up and now spilling out of him.

He wanted her, he needed her, he was in some twisted mad form of love with her. He'd have her, and he wouldn't let anyone else, at the very least not comfortably. Her intrigue had brought him in, her actions made him stay, and her sultry ways had driven him wild, and made him feel the need to stay even more. He was stricken, he was taken in and refused to leave. He'd fought tooth and nail to make her see how he felt, and if here and now, when they were doing this, when they were in this state, if she felt it ok to think of some other boy, then clearly he hadn't done well enough. For as much as he loved her, there was a dark, all consuming hate that was pumped into him from this thought. That some other boy could hold her heart, and he couldn't? The fuck he couldn't...he'd show him, he'd show her. She'd see...oh would she ever.

Her words drift through his mind again. "I don't share, remember?" "I don't share." "Don't share" "share". Share, share, share!! She didn't share, and neither would he. She was his, his not this other person's, not the world's. She belonged to him, and only to him. He looks down at her, eyes burning in confusion, hurt, lust, and hatred. He reaches a hand up, cupping her jaw in his fingers as he looks into her eyes. "Rin....dear sweet Rin...." He clenches her jaw a bit as he lets out a malicious laugh, mind all but gone, drunk on vengeance and fury. "I care about you far to much to let someone else have you. No one will have you but me. " He leans down, lips brushing her ear as he speaks now.

" I don't know him.....I don't know who he is....I don't know what he means to you, but I can't let him have you...I need you." his voice comes as close as it will to breaking at this point, the hurt his mind was producing over the thoughts of this mystery boy getting to him for a moment, but a passing moment it is as he goes back to what he has to tell her. "Forget about him though Rin...forget him. It's only going to be me now. " He raises his head back up, looking into her eyes, that same enraged fury burning, burning with a darkness that hadn't come out since he'd last struck his father before leaving. "I've told you, I've told you over and over. I own you, you belong to me. You don't like to share huh? Well neither do I, and I won't, I won't share you, with anyone. "


He presses in close, legs moving a bit between her, moving himself closer to her body, her scent driving him mad at this point. "You don't listen, or you don't believe, I'm not sure which it is. I tell you over and over how I feel, and you seemingly mock me. I don't know what it is to you, but I've meant what I said. I know you feel something too, I can see it in your eyes. Why else would you hunt me? Why else would you act the way you do. Why else.. " he asks as a hand gropes over one of her breasts again before holding her arm down again. " ...would we be in this situation?" he demands of her. He chuckles, again something odd and sinister as he looks down at her with an evil smile.

" I talk to much...I talk too much, don't I miss Rin? I blab on and on, while all you care about are actions. The only thing you know is action and doing, never the thinking. I've told you what I think, and you haven't, well it's time to find out. Talk talk talk...well no more, not for now, I promise. No more...no. I love you...and if here we lie, naked as we are, even in what we're doing you can't believe me, and you'll think of others, then I've let you down. I'm sorry for that, but for this, for this I won't be sorry. For this, you've left me no choice. This is the only way to prove to you that I mean what I've said, this is what needs to happen. No more words....you'll see.." he trails off.

He leans down, kissing her fast and rough, lips grinding against hers. He breaks the kiss, eyes locked on her as his hands slide up to her wrists, pinning her body down into the sand, his legs spreading her hips apart a bit, pushing his body all but against hers. "You made me....I have to.....Once and for all...you'll see Rin...you'll see. " he mutters, the madness in his eyes leaking out, as he positions himself over her. It's this, or it's nothing, if this wouldn't make her believe, then nothing would. He looks down at her one last time, looking deeply into her eyes, knowing he needs to prove himself, or he'll never win her. One last look, before his hips shift forward, before he pushes himself against her, causing their bodies to merge, as he pushes himself inside of her, taking away the one sacred thing there might have been to Rin.


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Tag:My Rin
Notations: I'm proud of it. He...he finally did it...let's see where they go, eh?
Credit: To Shaggy!
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[Natsumi Sayuri]

The heart faltered, the child cried out and held out it's arms for it's mother -- swept up among smiles and cuddles, and little lullabies that sing them to sleep; no, lies, all of it. Wretchedness had never had such kindness bestowed upon it. Sin had never had a face of good; love had never been pure when it came the selfish ambition of Wolf and Woman -- when it came from the start, from the purity of it's beginning. Yes, let's walk that path, that delirious thought that slips in an out of her consciousness, leading her along, yes, along that stupid little fucking path into her heart. What was this mask, this self that burns so fiercely so that none could get close? She pushes and shoves, leaps forward and clings: there are dual needs within her raging and purring and slipping out of control. This is the play, these are the words, the murmurs, the hymns, the pledge of loyalty: this is the little sound of her heart -- thump, thump, thump-thump-thumthumpthump slurring together vowels and consistencies. Where there is a path that should be walked, where the heart should be clear and bared, there is only barriers.

Rin had lost her ability to trust, and had been forever scarred and broken since.

The mirror had been shattered, and forever the shadow had been caught, the ugly, the scar that runs from the inside of her bleeding eyes to the lips which have been sewed shut in death. Let her never speak a word, for only falsehoods would fall from her purring, lying, dying tongue. Was she all that was bad in the world, or was she all that was good and victimized? The little girl only reaching out for that mother, for her mother, brother, lover? Her arms were around him, but she was far, far, away. Rin was drowning, as he was drowning, choking on her hair -- the knots of her infidelity. Soon they would grow and loop around her neck and let her swing, swing, her shadow racing with the sun under her bare feet. What was sand and pulse and life to the hollow swinging of death's lyrical threnody? Had she not the voice for it? Does she not lift that unholy mouth and lying, sweet, so sweet, voice to be heard amidst the darkness of night?

The Girl and Wolf are neither separate, nor together, a tangle of chains and loves and hatreds -- what was the good? Was the Wolf everything good, or was it the girl who was the good and the Wolf the antagonist come snarling terror in your dreams? So easy to mistake the face of truth for lie, to see lie as nothing but a parade of a secret wish -- the girl is small, a doll under the weight of his body, until the touch his melting, fiery touch: where he pressed his body to her, she burned, and he burned with her. Would he die, with her, in this cycle of hate she has brought to his door? Was she truly the huntress, and he the prey? Or did she secretly wish for this filth to spread, this contagion, this parody of love and devotion to continue onward? After all, the play must continue -- the audience must be entertained.

So she smiles, when she feels like she is nothing but death; she laughs and moves, constantly running, constantly hiding, weakened by the very thing which should be her source of strength. The heart falters and the child reaches out for it's mother: there is only pain and neglect in a world full of brothers and sisters, all looking alike, all talking alike, holding each other as their dearest mother becomes a blur of memory.

What did home look like? What was her life before this? Rin was a flower, closed to the world, but she was opening up -- acidity dripping down each delicious curve, poisoning the very world she wants to invite. The Venus Fly-trap, the Wolfsbane, so innocuous and beautiful ground to a fine pulp and added to dinner. Rin is caught by gravity, her hair sprawled out like a net, her eyes almond-shaped and piercing as she stares with fierce intensity at his face, at the sensation of her emotions palpable on her tongue: so bitter this taste of victory, but it is all she knows -- to bring out the worst in others to match her own. She can never be better, so she must equal their natures the only way she knows.

A bitter victory is a victory nonetheless: his chains are fraying, his control breaking, shattering under the weight of his disgust, under the bending, clawing, killing need to claim to her: she has possessed him, and she wants him this way, begging on his knees. She wants him, to feed the metamorphosis of her changing, to bring her to the path of this darkness.

It is all unconsciousness -- all shadows that parade before her eyes. All of it actions taken because of fear. Can she help that she reacts with only subconscious want? That she shifts her body in the most pleasing way, that she draws him out to her because it is the only way he would notice? Rin is beautiful when she smiles, when she is brilliant and reminiscent of innocence -- this play will continue on, though she will be bruised, though the smut in her soul allows her only to crawl when she wishes to fly. The Wolf is flaming, beautiful creature, full of purity and rage; the girl is brimming over with the cold heat of revenge. There is a hunger gnawing in her belly, a plague that has caused what was good to wilt, to sew in it's place deadly poison, ivy that climbs up and restrains all that burns.

So the girl burns, and dies, and wakes to burn all over again -- caught in a cycle that she shares, that she hands over to him: he is enthralled, by what means she cannot possibly know. She is no innocent, though the path he has been cornered and forced to take is not one she has known.

The image portrayed: twisted, convoluted boy, heart full of thorns. Broken, manipulative, girl, a succubus, mouth full of fangs. This picture that must be burned into the eyes, into the mind, the question that must be asked as the balance shifts and turns, Wolf against Woman, wholly different, wholly inseparable. Consciousness has become too intertwined but natures must be judged and in this eye, the eyes of Fate, the eyes of Gods, there is that feather weight of truth and justice: who will weigh more in the end? So weak, this girl. Given to temptations and terrors. In love with bloodshed for the mere sake of it, while the Wolf tempers. Is this the truest image? Or will you remember the savage brutality of flames, and the little girl cowering from it's heat?

Between them, between male and female, there is filth and madness -- but which will outweigh the other? Which will rule their actions? Rin is fire, boiling, heating up as their friction opens up her mind to the sins of the flesh: pleasure peaks and forms in her mind -- like the shore, she is bombarded, constantly separate from it, but yearning for that touch. It is something new she has learned. It is not always the sea which is yearning, wishing, wanting -- no, no, it is the shore which cannot move, which is held under the spell of the sea's motion that is yearning, that is burning. Her lips move, images rising unbidden as Dimitri's weaves his spell: his voice is soft but dangerous, and they invoke in her emotions and feelings, of images blossoming behind her eyes of Luke, of gentility, of goodness. Theirs is not a relationship of scum, but like hands reaching out through the dark to clasp in the light, they are inadvertently drawn.

Against the force of Dimitri? Rin is but flotsam floating up, crashing and lying still. Is there seaweed in her hair? Will they ever be caught? The undertone of anger cuts through the dirt -- she is sick, turning down a dark road, but still, Rin is at the crossroads, and Luke reminds her of her goodness, of the smiles, of the laughs. Dimitri reminds her of Luke with every possessive word he speaks, with each claim on her body he makes, her thoughts suddenly lurch forward, frightened of the change in her: frightened of the want in her. What fire could ever purge this plague from her veins? Not the physical act of love, no, no, but this mistrust of humanity, this need to push and push, to prove that they are as filthy underneath their clean clothes as she is. That they are as primitive and broken and immoral.

He pushes her down, dirties her, defiles her with his hands, with his weight, with the gleam in his eyes as he goes mad for needing her --- a need she had planted in him, wanted from him. Beg, beg, she had whimpered, wanted, needing to see someone as weak and pathetic as herself. Become like me, and she did not realize she had not wanted Dimitri as a companion, but someone to break, to rub and cajole, to hurt and destroy and be destroyed in turn. The Wolf is snarling, foaming at the mouth, but for once, she has no power. For once, the utter despair in Rin's heart has sealed her own doom -- Dimitri plunges forward, severing her from the unfurling hope which had been growing in secret.

Pain makes her bleed; blood makes her mad: the Wolf surges forward, but it cannot move past the vines of this self-loathing, cannot step foot where the Fire cannot walk. He destroys her, claims her, but as tears rise up, as he fills her up to splitting, she cannot feel anything but the suffocative hurt of one who has finally, finally gotten what they deserved.

Relief makes her heart hurt; the physical brutality numbs her body.

Punishment, at last -- defile me, she thinks without thinking, a small little smile curling the very edges of her lips as she realizes the dream she had ever been searching: for someone to hurt her, to give her the means to be punished for what she had done, for what she had become. What could thoughts of Luke do to her, now? What could her goodness mean when all of her has been taken and soiled? Defiled and broken, she feels the trail of her tears dry up in a calm collective breath: yes, yes -- she reaches for that coldness, for that center that had ever been part of her.

Rin, that was her calling, that was what they had deemed her the moment her other self had died in their eyes. Rin, the cold one. Rin, the distant one. Little did she know how much she had lived by that name, how crippled she had become. For this, she had no words, only a steady regard as she stared up with her black, pitiless eyes; stared up as her blood was spilled, as her heart contracted, and all that was Rin shattered into a thousand tiny shards.

------------------------------------------------------- and all of her chaos quieted, and stilled.

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word count;; 1912
tags;; Dimitri
OOC;; holy mother of GOD! Should we fast forward, so we don't rp the icky parts that are not allowed amidst this forum? Or do you simply wish to create another thread? I'm good with either. Rin has just become very complicated >.< and ... evil, if that's the right word.

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